


A Relative of Mine

by BlackPuzzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Harry/Draco as friends, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPuzzle/pseuds/BlackPuzzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter always thought that he was alone in this stupid world filled with people that want to hurt him, that no one wants him, and that he's was a true outcast. Though, a parchment that was stuck to the back of his parents picture told him other wise. He has a relative, one in Japan. Full of Magic and power, not to mention that he is in Mafia!</p><p>" Kyoya, I'm so sorry! "<br/>" ...I'LL BITE YOU TO FUCKING DEATH!!!! "<br/>" Merlin, God, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!! "</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prologue

A Relative of Mine

The characters that belongs in this story belongs to J.K Rowling and Amino Akira.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Prologue...

" Go outside and do something productive, you useless prat! "

The voice boomed over the figure behind the banister of rickety stairs, and murky dark brown red carpet underneath. Messy ebony hair tussled in every angel possible, as a boy of age thirteen, slowly and cautiously thumps away down the stairs to abide his uncles' wishes. He have a lot of chores to do. Trimming the hedges, mowing the lawn, weed out the front yard garden, scrape up the old manure and smearing the earth anew. Hard work it is, and only given a limited amount of time to do the exact chores, or else no dinner for him.

His aunt hollered a shriek from the kitchen, commanding to tend the gardens, whilst she do the cooking before the 'Hudges' gets here.

" The Hudges, owner of one of the most global industrial station distributional company in Europe today, boy. If I can get them to agree to the finances of my drill marketing value, my company would make loads. So hush it. Or no food will come for you. Today and maybe next week, too. "

Uncle Vernon hadn't played nice since the 'Marge Incident' ('psh, since when has he'). The bulging purple hunk of flesh nearly tore his ear off when he was given a bloody shrill of a lecture, then throws him into Dudley's smelly old room and locked him in there for two days straight. No toilet breaks either. He literally have to open his boarded up window and use it as an open bathroom. Well, at least the flowerbeds were getting more nutrients then he is in this house like prison. To the flowers, water and shits were given, but him, he ain't got nothin'. By the time the two days were over, he was immediately set to work, before being shoved with cold water and two slices of bread with cheese down his throat. His lesson was put to set.

" Do what you did to Marge or use any, and I mean ANY, means of MAGIC, then you would find you and your stuff out of my home. "

And when Uncle Vernon wrangles that threat into his brain, then there's no turning back, unless he wants to end up being homeless.

Harry arc his back so they would 'pop' the tenseness that pressurized in his spine, and grab the moth eaten, dirt crusted gardening gloves, a pink gardening bucket (*shiver* 'Oh Merlin, why pink! Anything's better than PINK!'), and his hole loving green forest fishing hat that he found in the already moldy red shed. The only comfort that he has throughout his entire life in the garden, was this hat. The green, puke colored hat of 'justice and friendship', (not that he really know what 'friendship' is) is what he calls it when he was younger. But as time pass on, he finally named it 'Bob'.

Bob was a very particular hat. He shields him from the immense heat that of England's summer. Help him slap and threatens Ripper away when he got to close to one of the flower beds and was about to shit on it. And eventually, with him on top of his sweaty messy hair, made his first friend, to a snake. The snake died in the hands of his uncle after two weeks of fun. It was disappointing, but hey, when it comes to life, and you're living with the Dursley's, don't expect too much than work, little sleep and only a handful of food.

Bob the Hat was a good man... or at least he's a guy, right? Harry means, gender-wise.

The boy-who-Lived clean his round wired glasses and patted his hat of invisible dust, plops it on his head, and walked briskly into the hot open summer sun of England. Harry stifled a moan, while kneeling and begin to rip out the weeds that has grown near his aunts tulips. It was tiering work, then after an hour of nonstop weeding, he stood up with shaking knees and drag out the lawn mower from the red shed. Four hours more before the time limit's set, and he still got to do the trimming.

It was six by the time he was rushed in inside by his aunts constant hissing, and 'hurry up, before they're here!'. Aunt Petunia ram a cold cheese sandwich into his open hands, push him into his smelly room. Ew. Merlin, it still smells like sex. Disgusting. Harry's mind then wonders how his whale like cousin can even get a girl, much less a person, to take in his small penis up a vagainas opening. He feels sorry for who ever the prostitude that's willing to give their pussy away for Dudley. God only knows if she catches a disease from him.

' Okay, okay, just don't think about it, Harry. You can do this! Just eat the damn sandwich. '

He looks back at said food whilst the strong odor wrecked upon his senses. He suddenly turns green and nearly vomited on the already dirty carpet. He swear and promise that he will never take off his sock in this room. Only when sleeping will he take it off. Who knows what creature Dudley might develop in his time of masterbation or sex or semen that drenched the floor. His breath hitched.

" Oh, God, Merlin please help me... "

He force his hand to his mouth, took a bite, chew, then swallow. One of the worst thing that he have to do in life, eat in his room. Again, bile nearly grazes the opening of his esophagus, but he quickly push it down to his stomach. This was harder than he thought. Even Ripper would suffer a trauma if he caught a whiff of this.

His legs guide him to his bed, still nibbling on the cheese sandwich given to him by his 'lovely' aunt, while grasping for his parents picture frame. It happened suddenly, to quickly for his brain to progress what he had just done. The picture frame slip. It landed with a hard 'thunk' on the his bedside table, the glass shatters and spread out in to the carpet. Harry immediately scarf down the last of his sandwich, and bent over to scrape the glass out of the plushy ground. 

One by one he lifted the shards, regretting that he wasn't fast enough to catch the frame, or too clumsy to even hold it. He stood up and tread to his trash bin beside his study table. While looking down to seize of what's left of his picture frame, Harry notice something that wasn't quite right. Something was jutting out near the right bottom corner of his parents picture.

He carefully remove the said picture from the frame, but still got punctured anyway for not paying attention to the remaining shattered glass ringed out around the frame. It was out. Harry clasp the folded corner that's split to two, and gently pulled it apart. What he thought was a piece of the picture was actually a folded parchment stuck to the back.

The parchment, instead of having a normal golden brown color, is white. Pure as snow. No other color blemish the paper. It's as if it's glowing. Unbeknownst to Harry, he slip his punctured finger on the parchment, making an arc way of blood smeared on its surface. The parchment started glowing more brightly, and to Harry's surprise, it too started growing.

Names upon names bloomed from the top of the paper, in the middle were the Blacks, it separated to five more branches. He only recognizes the Malfoys, Potters, and the Weasleys, the rest was unrecognizable. The Peverells were on the top, branched out from the Peverells were the Gaunts, then came one solid name of Tom M. Riddle. On the lower section of the Potter family was Harry's name.

" Bloody hell of Merlin's beard, I'm related to Voldemort?! " Harry belched out in a hush tone.

He looked over it again and made a face.

"... Jesus, God! The Malfoys too! "

Then once more, trembling in nervousness, on the paper, and read the names.

" Oh, God send! Thank the Weasleys. "

The white parchment halted its growth. Harry, being the only reasonable boy that he is, thought that the names stop there. His hands was about to fold the coarse material, when a name began, with blood red ink, tracing down itself below his great aunts name. It went to English, then some type of Asian lettering. He was confused as names begins to spur again, until it reaches next to his name. This person with Asian lettering, he's probably related to him. Considering the ink was still brightly red, he's probably still alive too! And maybe close to his age!

Harry don't know what to say. His emotions begins to stir, and shocking as it sounds but, Harry, the Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort, the Boy-who-Lived, have tears prickling in his eyes and was about to cry. Of all the bad things that had happen to him, Voldemort be damned, he has finally found true excitement and happiness in his life. He has found a relative, a rather small one, that's other than the cruel Dursleys. 

He dab his eyes. This was it, he finally got what he wish for. But then again, what if this was fake. Just an enchanted piece of parchment, only here for mockery and pointing out that he doesn't really have a family. It saddens and angers him that such a person would do that. But the parchment got to be true, who else would glue a folded paper to his parents picture?

Harry flip the white paper to its backside, checking for pranks that might await him. There was none. Just the blanks staring back at him. It's official, he loves Merlin more than 'Prank on Malfoy Tuesday' (torture the git, torture him!!!). 

Harry breathed out a sigh. Nothing. It was actually real. Authentic, fucking bloody hell!!! And just then, his mind explode. He have a relative. A living relative. A relative. RELATIVE. A relative non the less... oh HAPPY DAY!!!

But then again, what is there to trust. His whole life was nothing but nightmare survival games. Every dodge and turns with successful paths, morphs to dead ends because 'Fate' just hates him that much. This thing, he needs to be careful of what this parchment actually means. He glance at it once more, before creasing it, and stash the 'suspicious paper that needs to be examined by Hermione', in his trunk, and set it aside till Hogwarts. 

Harry could hear the front door creaked open, and Dudleys' piggish voice, squealing out compliment towards the Hudges. He couldn't grasp to what the Dursleys were saying, his revolving barrier won't let him. He let out a sigh, tired from the forced gardening that he have to do. 

' Day's just getting better and better. Wonder when's deadline is? ' 

Green orbs lingered to his torn up leather bound suitcase. Family. What is there of family? In fact, all his life, he's mind would question, ' what is Family? '. It scares him that he doesn't even know of what that word properly mean. 

The Boy-who-Lived jutted out his hid, perch on his bed, and wrap his hands on his face. Everything's just going so fast. First he found out that his Godfather was Sirius Black and was framed for something that he hadn't done, then he ripped a folded parchment stuck to the back of his parents picture, that with his blood, unlocks some secret line age about his family. And now he regrets not secretly going to the bathroom when the Hudges hadn't arrived yet. Well, more food for the plants below.

Wonder Boy sheds his clothes and threw it to the carpet. He laid there, only in his boxers. His mind then wonders into the unknown, as his eyelids glides down from needing to sleep. He ponders about what it would be like to have a normal life. Not that he would ever have one, but normal in his own way. (Normal is BS!)

With the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Sirius. And maybe, just maybe, his long lost, just found, relative.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

DONE!!! Freaking done! Took what a thousand words, but I would be guessing that's worth it. Anyways, hope you like it and hungry for more, cause I'm not stoping, baby! I could smell the victory inside me... wait that's just gas.

But, thank you for reading and please review!

¡Gracias! (That's how you say 'thank you' in Spanish, right?)


	2. A tea with NIGHTMARE

A Relative of Mine

Harry Potter and KHR is not mine.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Chapter 1 A tea with NIGHTMARE

 

Harry dreamt of party streamers and poppers that night. To be with Sirius and his close friends. To be a family. To be 'one'. Not that he will ever have a proper family. But there was this figure, floating at the edge of the valley where the venue was at. 

It was shadow like outlined with white light. The figure just stood there, not moving or coming closer. Harry was curious, he had never seen him before, this lone figure, covered in a dark shroud, like a Lethifold was eating him. 

Harry hefted his legs on to the grassy plane, stalking towards his target. It didn't budge as Harry stood across from it. He conjured his courage and wave his hand in front of its face. Harry let out a soft 'Hello', waiting for its response.

It has no motion, what so ever, until Harry press his index finger on its shoulder. The figure gave in a twitch. Then instantly grasp on his offending finger and twisted it. The Wonder Boy let out a soft hiss as his finger was bent to an impossible angel without it breaking. Had he anger the figure by touching him? He question himself if he actually disturb the person covered in black.

The ebony glob shaped human grunted, before pulling out a stick like weapon with handles on its sides. The dark shade held a death grip on the long weapon, then staggered to a fighting stance. It bellowed a growl, ready to pounce on its prey. 

It was all too slow for Harry. Him, desperately wanting to get away from the threat that has presented itself to him. He lofted his legs and glided from the dangerous man/women. He didn't make it back towards his party, it was too far. Harry could see 'Deaths' face when he glance back at the ebony shroud. Five syllables told him that today was the day that he was going to die. His death day, the day where he would no longer be living. He waited for his end, as he stared at the perfect rows of pearly white canine teeth. This is it. The end.

The figure found its prey, and went in for the kill. It leaps toward Harry, uttering one word form its thin lips. It whispered, 

" Kamikorosu. "

Then the world shut to black.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Harry crank open his eyes, revealing emerald green orbs, while trying his best to muffle his scream from wakening the Dursleys. 

' Bloody hell! What was that?! '

Harry's yesterday's dinner was dying to fly out of his mouth, when images of his caved in skull, blood spurting very where, putrid evil smirks flashing with killing intent, polluted his mind. It scares him that he could imagine a person like him. Except that, that thing is not human. That thing is what you call a MONSTER. 

Who ever this Monster is, he just wish that it doesn't exist. His body went ridged, shaking from the coldness and fear from his dream. He contort his arm and began lifting and sway his path toward his mauled closet. He pulled out an over large burnt orange t-shirt, a rough but still soft enough grey towel and a ratchet black pants. 

He glides into the bathroom right down the hall, before Dudley's room, and carefully closing the door to not awake his whale cousin. He flicked the switch, the old lamp light hazily turns on, brightening the cream flowery wallpaper. The curtains were dark custard yellow, the small toilet bowl and sink were white. All in all, it looks a like typical Hufflepuff restroom.

Harry set his towel down on the cover of the plush toilet seat. He undid his clothes, turn on the hot water, and took a seven minute shower. He did his daily routine of brushing his teeth, doing his number twos and ones, and make sure he's as presentable as possible, for fear of Uncle Vernon locking him up in his room for a week with no shower. (If he wakes early enough then, he could entertain himself with his 'bits' in the shower when he's bored.)

He sneaked into the kitchen after placing his clothes on their appropriate places, and set off to cook breakfast. He went to the counter top to get out the dishes, when a silent ringing ricochet in his eardrums. It hurt like hell, far worst then Uncle Vernon's beating, or almost starving to death. Harry's body doubled over in pain, as he tries to gasp out for air that seems to never reach in for his lungs. 

It was like ice just wrap around his being, suffocating him from the inside. It quickly disappeared as it came. He had never felt such anguish in his life, that it made him sick and want to keel over and die. Then another pulse drones in, screaming and humming inside his mind. He tried his best as he could to ignore the torturous yelling, but he failed. It was just too much. 

Then, the pain disappeared, again! Harry doesn't know what's going on with his body. He left out the pans and culinary utensils out to the side, gathering ingredients for pancakes. He laid out bacon on an iron pan and watch it sizzle with its fat and heavenly scented aroma. He poured out water on each glass in the dinning room table after he's done cooking, and let out apple and orange juice from the fringe. 

He was done, now on to his bed. He went over to the rickety set of stairs with murky red carpet, and almost daze to-and-fro from reality and and subconscious. He thought he was going to die. Panic went in and started to gag from his own spit, thinking that he was underwater. His body was paralyzed. Even though it lasted for a minute, it felt like centuries has passed. 

' This is not good. '

Harry scampered off to his smelly bedroom and dropping like stone, face forward, on his bed. There it is again. The shocking waves of electricity, water, air, and mostly fire consuming him in rapid motion. He can't say anything, can't move his limbs, even breathing is hard. He imagine himself covered in misty water like substance, the drown in acid as his flesh melts from his bones. He tried screaming, he really did, but no sound came out of his pouty, thin red lips of his. 

' Ok, defiantly NOT GOOD!!! '

Vomit almost made it up his throat, but he gush it back down. Even if Dudley's room is already dirty, that doesn't mean that he wants it even worst than it already is. He landed to his back and curl into a fetal position. He didn't know what happened next, knew that's he's still alive but his focus just blank out and everything went black, and here he was, in a white enchanted like forest with ranging from blue sapphire to sky like colored crystals, littered amongst the earths floor. 

The stones change color, some rapidly, others slowly. What's particular about this, is that each crystals have a different glow, no more like different energy to what color it morph into. It was a strange occurrence, but accepted non the less. Harry cautiously treaded along the forest floor on his bare feet. In fact his whole body is without cover. Only his personal 'bits' were concealed within the binds of silk woven white cloth wrapped around his waist. A thick single sling went to his right shoulder, covering his right torso, giving the silk band a 'Toga' like design. 

Gold and rune ran from the sims of the cloth. It comes with silver and pearl weaving that glittered upon the sun when shined at. He came to a stop when a ancient structure came to sight. It was beautiful. White. Pure white of no other existent colors tainted it, giving innocent vibes coming from its pillars. Harry touch one of them and can feel the hum of energy beneath his skin.

He went inside it, curious of what lurks behind these walls of mysteries. Bright lights appeared before him, blinding his green orbs of sight. He covered his blinded eyes with his arm, and carefully glides in for he not wanting to wake the danger that sleeps in this heaven like coliseum. There was a rumble, a roar of fire in the distant view after the harsh glaring light exhaust from its victim.

Harry's green orbs harvest the object that lays before him. The ancient stairs that were once a magnificent glory to behold, is in shambles of runes. The clear steps lead to a gray speckled marble flat stage, where vibrant colors of the rainbow littered on the curtains, that has wrapped its wispy bodies to hide a certain secret within its vicinity. Harry's foot touchdown on the last step, getting ready to remove the carpet. What hits him is that, once he assaulted his fingers on the rainbow covering, it shouted death threats that echoes beyond the far walls of this white kingdom. 

What ever it is, it loath him and doesn't want Harry to come closer. The curtains perturbed him, he question himself if there is a such thing as a cursing curtain before. Then again, if you found out that you're a wizard that's famous because he defeated an evil bastard with his own spell when he's one, then yeah, nothing will ever be normal. Ever. Again. His Slytherin side came to view as determination of wanting this curtain to unblock what their hiding. 

He started with tugging it, even though as the curtains kept cursing at him, it won't budge. Not to mention the striking pain the affiliated his body while doing the action. Harry has no acceptions towards losing something as simple as pulling a curtain open. This thing is bugging him, the more he tug and wrench, the harder it is to breath. The curtains of no avail finally give way after a long struggle of Harry's pulling. There was hushed and brassed whispering after the curses died down.

' We're only trying to keep you safe. But now, you'll regret it. '

Harry's eyes roam to the center, where he met an elephant size chalice of blazing orange inferno. The burning heat waves upon yonder, relaxed and some how radiates calmness within its vicinity. His callous hand went up to touch the golden and silver cup, grazing over the ridges and poking the astonishingly cool flame. Harry know that fire are not generally cold. Nor does it not burn him when his skin flies to it. His green orbs absorbs the fires physics, the way it moves, the way it speaks with its flaming body.

His eyes grazes over the wispy orange flames, and target to what seems like an egg it the center. His hand slides over then into the inferno and clasp the golden tan egg. His held the white shell close to his body, giving it heat while it's out of the fire. Harry's curiosity reached its peak as he gently pokes it with his index finger. An air like stroke glistened over its outer shell, it then cracks instantly and made way over its body.

Harry gasp in fear, for the egg was destroyed under his touch. He didn't mean to break it, it was an accident! A white reptilian paw digs out and shatter from its shell. Claws started to tear apart a path towards the blinding light. The-Boy-Who-Lived stared in amazement as the creature within struggles to reach out towards him. Harry helped it by removing the pieces that held together the shell. At last, the creature tumbles out of its skeletal womb and out on to the open hands of Harry Potter. 

It was a dragon. A dragon of no color, so deathly pale, with sapphire blue orbs staring at his own emeralds. So small it can held with just his palm. So beautiful as light reflects from its scale, giving the beast a heavenly innocent glow. It coo at him, scratching his wrist with its not harden yet claws. It wants attention from Harry. It wants love, it wants to be cherished. Harry nudge the small fireling under its chin, making the creature purr in delight. As he did, the scene around Harry started to change, unbeknownst to him.

The light dimmed from its bright contrast. As the darkness grew, Harry became aware, whilst trying to tranquil the agitated dragonling. He brought the majestic being close to him, while it paws scrape his silk wrap for more warmth. There, in his view was a man. An old man in his late 50's, scrounging about, trying to find something. He came to a stop in a sight of an open door. There were whispers, desperate ones, one that was meant of wanting to 'please'.

" My Dark Lord, I can do this, you just have to trust me, just give me time so I can prepare-, " 

A hiatus was born before it was crushed by a coarse voice, intertwined with lisp.

" This is particularly why I don't trust you. You are slow, much slower than a dead snail wanting to eat a lettuce from gnomes gardens. "

" My Lord, please forgive me, for the intrusion, but considering that I'm in the best position for this task that you seek. No one will know what they're up against, such simple mission as it is. "

" ... I guess that leaves me no choice, make one mistake and I will end you. "

The man on his knees before the chair, gave in a low bow of respect.

" I will not disappoint you my Lord. "

" Good, first gather our own comrades, send them the sign. "

The elderly gasp in fear as he felt slithering against his leg. It was a python. It glides into the room, hissing like it was talking to the person in front of him. The men stop speaking, until the ghostly voice sneered in disgust.

" Nagini tells me that the old Muggle caretaker is standing just right outside the door! " 

A rat like man came upon the gate way, glaring maliciously at the aged senior.

" Step aside, Wormtail, " The voice whizzes. " So I can give him a proper greeting! "

The ancient man spurred his legs into a run, but he can not escape. There was a distinct shout of an Unforgivable Spell, and the thunk of a dead body comes alive.

Harry didn't know what to do as the scene was taken place right before his eyes. He couldn't save the caretaker for he also can not move. It was like his was perma-glued on to the floorboards. The colorless dragon gave in a roar of distress, wanting to get out of this horrid place. 

Harry did so with his own shriek, and sat awake clutching at his own scar. He glance at his digital clock that read 4:39 am... WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!!! Did he just prepared breakfast in the middle of the night. How could he have not known that it was half four in the morning!

' Merlin, God, please forgive me! What have I done to deserve you wrong? '

He quickly scrambled down stairs to hide all the food in the fridge and oven. His scar still burns brightly with pain, like gongs that echoes through that empty grass valley. He was connected again, intertwined his mind with the most ruthless vicious Dark Lord of all times. It would only take two hundred miles of suffering. Two hundred miles of dread. Two hundred miles of knowing that the Dark Lord Voldemort has spun the wheel of Fate and has risen once more.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
~ I still remember the days when I egg peoples houses for no reason at all.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyways, sorry for the late update. Lots to do in life. I'm gonna try to make this Tory as realistic as possible with hints of humor, life, violence, and love. Yeah that's it. SEE YEAH!!!


	3. Ugly Scar

A Relative of Mine

 

Harry Potter & KHR does NOT belong to me, this is only FAN FICTION

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Chapter 2 Ugly Scars

 

Harry felt like he was suffocating on water and puff balls, or whatever that's blocking his air way, as he struggle to breath through wheezing gasp of oxygen. He retaliates, he needs air now. Harry clawed his short stubby nail on his parched throat. He gaged, wishing that this torture of smothering would just end already! He thin bony body rotates so that his back was hitting creaking aged mattress. The darkness still obscure his view.

' There's no light! The BLOODY HELL! Why is there no LIGHT!!! '

Insanity kicks in. His emotions was scattered around places, as his mind fights to keep things organize. Nothing mattered to him, until he realized that the ebony shroud that he's eloped in, was his blanket. Harry's hand got hold of the scanty duvet, and toss it to the pale tan covered carpet. He lay there, on his back, sweating like pigs on high, and tiered as fuck.

Not to mention that the burning of his scar kicks in as soon as his green peepers open. It hurts. The pounding of drums in his brain, nails scraping on chalkboards sound blasted through his ears, and a paralyzed body that can't do shit. Every nerves that he owns feels like acid has just been poured on his skin, melting everything it touches. The world seem to dissolve into this intense torture of never ending cycle of pain.

' My head hurts. My arm hurts. My fucking _**scar**_ hurts! '

Harry's body morph in to a fetal position, while his aching body begs mercy to stop the torment. Green orbs loll back, reviling white flesh of his eyes. He had that vision replayed in his head again. Phantom whispers brushing the shell of his ears as he tries to intensified his abilities to hear. There, in his mind scape, he once again meets his colorless dragonling of ten inches long and, from wing tip to the other, two foot wide.

The white dragonling squeals in delight of Harry's arrival. It waddles on its four reptilian paws, and snuggle on his bare legs. Its body twist and turn, sapphire blue orbs roaring with life. Harry bends forward and gave a little pat on its rough scaly back. The dragon move towards the warmth that Harry gave with his patting. Every brush or strokes that he made, the blank colored reptile would emit tender energy. It would spread and absorb by his mind scape, making him calm and less hostile.

Harry embrace the friendliness aura that surround his little dragon. He slowly bends down and hang his reptilian friend in his arms, and hopes for the best as the scene change, from holy white, to darkening ashes with black pillars towering above the ground. Harry's feet trudge sluggishly on the mossy damp path of clustered ebony earth. The trees moaned at him, murmuring danger and death. His white dragonling whimper and growls, swiping his dull clawed paws at the smug air.

Out of all odds, this measly little dragon is like a teddy bear. A tiny being of comfort against all the evil that crosses paths with him. If only he was real, then things would be easier in the real world. The Wonder Boy sighed and continue on his adventure with his dragon. He hiked up a hill and down to the valley, with blue and flame colored orange lilies skittered among the moist grassy floor. The contrast was great, lilies were glowing, the night is a shade of deep violet, the stars were blinking upon the inky cobalt sky.

Harry couldn't breath when his emerald orbs takes in the scene before him. It was just like out of a picture book, only it's not... Well not really, considering that this place happens to be in his head.

" Beautiful, "

His green eyes wonder about the location that he's in. He's dragon roaring with delight, until he saw a lone figure, standing in the field of orange and sapphire lilies, glaring directly at Harry. Harry gasp. It's him! That-that being thing that attacked from last time! Why in the name of Merlin is he here?! Is he going to kill him again?Harry panicked. This was turning out to be more of a nightmare than an actual fantasy of peace. Damn, _fuck_ the Fates.

He was just about to turn around, when the dark shroud called out to him. It has a soft, gentle like fierceness embedded in its voice, coaxing him to come closer. Harry knows that now he's a rat going for the cheese on a mouse trap. The figure march its way towards Harry. Gliding with ease amongst the glowing flowers littered in the valley. It came to a stop in front of the-boy-who-lived, lifted its hand, nudge Harry's chin. The dark figure spoke,

" (1) あなたが知らない、あなたは何？"

" I don't understand?" Harry questioned.

"(2) 私は一人だし、だから、ある"

It was silent. Utter silent, until the being dissolves to thin air and Harry Potter, the vanquisher of darkness to-be opens his forest colored orbs out towards the real world.  
\-------------

It wasn't after six that Harry got up from his ramshackled bed, and went across the hall for a quick shower. During that time, Harry tries to remember what his dream, the one with screaming and torture and darkness (not the flower daisy thing, "Was it daisies?"), was about. The odd thing was that the dream was from the point of view of the thing in the chair. What was it? A snake, he remembers that. Probably Voldemort plotting to kill him as usual.

The cold humid summer of Britain. Another day outside, in the garden, pulling out weeds and labor with no pay...yay. He's life sucks. Everything can go to hell. And since he's stuck here, in Privet Drive, with no friends, have to do goddamn chores, no proper meals, and complaining bitches commenting that their life is in total ruins and the subject would be how their hair is messed up, he have sit on his ass and do shit that weren't supposed to be _HIS JOB IN THE FIRST PLACE_ , and be lonely till school starts. That my friend, is a _SUCKY LIFE._ Done! NO argument allowed, your justification is _INVALID_ , mote it be.

As for the neighbors questioning where the hell was he during the past six months, his oh so 'loving family' said the same,

" The boy went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, because he's a _**freak**_. "

So yeah, life sucks.

His burning scar still aches from the bad dream that he had. He could ask Hermione, but she's predictable enough that she would go to Dumbledore and told him what happened, and dump some schoolbooks at him so he can read up on curse scars. Sure, Hermione is one of his best friends, but he doesn't want to stress Dumbledore (he knows that she's going to tell the old coot anyways) with burdens, and he seriously doesn't want to get sacked with books. Especially being early in the school year, that would be harsh.

He could just ask Ron. But, no. He'll freak out and would tell his dad about it. And then Mr. Weasley would get worked up on it, and Harry doesn't like bothering anyone. So that leads to his godfather, Sirius Black. He prepared breakfast, again, once it reaches seven thirty, and scamper away on the creaky mellowed out stairs, to his bedroom. He wrote a letter containing what experience that he had and what he saw in his dream to Sirius. He scribbled to him,

" Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward? "

And send of regards on how he was coping with a sucky life. All in all, it went well and Harry felt better after sending his letter on to Sirius with Hedwig in tow. Now, time for some cores of action, time for the real game, time for slave labor... Ah, stupid life!  
\-------------

  
Gah, sorry for the long wait. I was on hiatus mode and wasn't on the groove for writing KHR fics, but now I'm trying to get back on it. :) hope this story works out, though.

 

(1) Anata ga shiranai, anata wa nani?/ you don't know, do you?

(2) Watashi wa hitoridashi, dakaradesu./ I'm alone, and so are you.


End file.
